


Dawn of the... really?

by DmitriMolotov



Series: The Fakes One-shots and Prompts [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bikers, Christ Punchers, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Gratuitous Swearing, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/pseuds/DmitriMolotov
Summary: “They call themselves the …seriously?” The officer glared over the top of his notes, one eyebrow raised. “They call themselves the fucking Christ Punchers.”“The fuck d’you come up with a name like that?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to... Thanks to my Buddy for the idea.

“They call themselves the … _seriously_?” The officer glared over the top of his notes, one eyebrow raised. “They call themselves the fucking _Christ Punchers_.”

The other man nearly spat his coffee out, covering his mouth with his hand and choking a bit while Geoff, Ryan and Michael laughed.

The three were handcuffed to the table which was bolted to the ground. Still, the officers were wary and kept their distance.

The Fake AH Crew were pulling some sort of stunt. It had to be. All of a sudden they’d traded in their ridiculous sports cars and military vehicles for equally ridiculous motorcycles and started referring to themselves as an MC gang. It would’ve been funnier if it hadn’t resulted in the deaths of a few dozen LSPD officers who’d been game enough to track them back to their “club house”.

“The fuck d’you come up with a name like that?” The second cop spluttered, still recovering.

Michael and Ryan both looked to Geoff who smirked back at them. “You really want to know?”

“It’s a really funny story-” Michael started but Geoff cut him off.

“ _I’ll_ tell it, you’ll just mess it up,” Geoff insisted, much to Michael’s chagrin, “It _is_ a funny story though...”

The officers exchanged a glance at each other, before one waved a hand in indication to continue. Ryan continued to stare them down, probably unintentionally; his contacts had a way of making it look like he was constantly eyeballing people. Their outfits had changed with their rides, but Ryan’s ominous skull-like face paint stayed. It was made all the more disturbing by his attempt at ‘manscaping’ his chest hair into the rough shape of a skull and refusing to wear a shirt under his leather jacket. They had all been relieved when he couldn’t find the leather chaps he was originally after.

With the officer’s now studiously ignoring Ryan’s creepy-factor and diverting their attention to Geoff, he went ahead.

“So we were in this bar, right? Seedy dive bar out in Blaine County, the one with the darts, you know the one? Everyone knows that place… Oh right, it was the _hostage_ bar.”

“The _Trojan_ bar,” Ryan corrected, still pleased with his original idea for the heist that has _almost_ proved successful, twice.

“Whatever.” Geoff waved him off. “We were at that bar and this guy comes up to us. Long-haired, hippy-looking motherfucker. Swear to fucking god, this guy looked exactly like Jesus-”

“Well, like a _white_ Jesus, so probably nothing like how any historical Jesus would’ve looked…” Ryan interrupted, “if he actually existed at all…”

“Fuck’s sake, would you just let me tell the goddamned story?!”

Michael giggled an ascending stuttering hum through his nose and Ryan grinned back at him while Geoff exaggeratedly slammed his hands down on the table, rattling his cuffs against the steel.

“Anyways… This Jesus motherfucker, he was an absolute _asshole_. I mean total fucking prick. Kept nosing his way into our business, couldn’t take a hint… and I mean, one thing led to another and he had it coming. So I punched him… Guy went down like a sack of shit. Like punching Christ right in the face.” Geoff shrugged. “If Christ was a fucking pussy.”

Michael laughed out loud this time and even Ryan cracked a toothy grin.

“Hey, hey, hey; you wanna know the reason why _Geoff_ wanted to tell the story?” Michael asked, leaning in looking exaggeratedly conspiratorial, “It’s because _he_ didn’t come up with the name. Lil J did and it was so fucking hilarious we all took it up. ‘Geoff the Christ-puncher’. Of course, he couldn’t fucking _stand it_ either, so when we registered the name – you totally have to do that shit by the way, who’d’ve thought – we all knew exactly what it had to be!”

“Goddammit!” Geoff’s voice cracked, “I should’ve called us Geoff and the Jizz-Mouths on behalf of you cocksuckers!”

Michael and Ryan roared with laughter and even the cops chuckled at Geoff’s outburst.

“They wouldn’t answer to any other name after that! Assholes! What a great fuckin’ crew…” Geoff shook his head, banging his hands on the table in frustration again.

The cops laughed even harder at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

The recognition of the sound of the faint click of metal on metal as Geoff’s handcuffs released signalled that they’d fucked up. Bigtime.

Geoff was on his feet in a flash and Ryan and Michael were seconds behind him. The sound of gunshots in the hallway outside indicated their timing was spot-on. Geoff grabbed the nearest cop by the hair and slammed his head down hard on the table, feeling his nose give out beneath his hand, before lifting his head and slamming it back down a few more times for good measure, blood spraying across the table. Ryan and Michael caught the other cop as he turned for the door, Ryan seizing his collar and yanking him back while Michael grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him, threatening to break his wrist. In one smooth motion, Geoff took the man’s gun and cracked him over the head with the butt of the weapon. Ryan and Michael released him and the officer slid to his knees and drooped to the ground. Michael grabbed the gun from the unconscious cop slumped over the table and Ryan waited patiently, cracking his knuckles.

Geoff and Michael trained their guns on the door as the handle turned and the door flung open to reveal Jack, looking stunning and deadly in her tight leather halter top that really offered no protection, but damn if she didn’t look _fine_. A little way behind her was Jeremy, gun still in hand and a number of dead cops scattered throughout the hallway.

Jack smiled smugly, “We thought about leaving you here… but Mr Vice President here thought that would be a bad idea.” She jerked her thumb at Jeremy, who grinned back at them.

“Unfortunately you guys are gonna have to catch a cab back to the club house, not enough room on the bikes…” Jeremy deadpanned.

“Haha, very funny,” Geoff started before the realisation hit him. “Oh shit, you’re serious? Motherfucker.”

“I’ll call Sam,” Ryan offered, “he’s a reliable fellow.”

Jack laughed first, giving it away, “Don’t bother. We had your bikes dropped off down the block; you just have to make it to them.” She handed Ryan a gun, which he looked much happier with, although he had to wonder where she’d been _keeping_ it in the skin-tight leathers she was wearing.

Michael bounced a little excitedly as more cops spilled though the far door.

The crew instinctively fell into formation behind Geoff.

“Alright Christ Punchers, let’s show ‘em who’s boss.”

“We’re not seriously keeping that name though, are we?” Ryan asked, taking aim.

Geoff laughed, “You bet your thankfully chap-less ass we are.”


End file.
